
Jesus: The REVIVER
Jesus isnât just the Redeemer.
Heâs the Reviverâthe Protagonist of Time,
walking backward through the chaos
to make sure love still makes it to the end.
Wisdom is how you live.

Jesus isnât just the Redeemer.
Heâs the Reviverâthe Protagonist of Time,
walking backward through the chaos
to make sure love still makes it to the end.

What if the Ten Commandments were never laws to obey, but invitations to remain in divine union?

When the world feels still enough to listen, have you noticed grace moving through you â not as emotion to feel, but as alignment already happening within?

Iâm not trying to change the world. Iâve just chosen to be completely changed by it.

We train our children to avoid ah and um, yet fill our own silence with noise.
Maybe grace doesnât live in the words we speak, but in the space between themâ
where sparks enter, and presence begins.

A reflection on how inherited protection becomes conditioning â and how presence restores the balance between prosperity and pain, want and need.

Privilege and poverty are not oppositesâtheyâre proof weâve drifted from union. This reflection traces how ritual, reward, and rhetoric sustain distance, how religion turns doctrine into a ledger, and how the Christ of Proximity restores presence: not gold or gray, but sky returned to breath.

Logic builds systems. Trust sustains them.
When logic reaches its limits, it doesnât collapse â it transforms into trust.
Because the moment you stop needing to understand everything, you start belonging to it.

Sometimes the songs we sing badly stay with us the longest. âHave Thine Own Way, Lordâ was one of those for meâa melody I once mumbled through, now a prayer that shapes the way I live. What I missed in tune, Iâve learned in time: that grace doesnât need perfection to be heard. It only asks that we stay soft enough to be shaped.

Parenthood has a way of changing how you understand love. The strength I once measured by how high I could stand is now measured by how gently I can stay. My children have taught me what my motherâs faith began â that love doesnât always reach upward; sometimes it sends roots downward. And in that quiet turning, Christ meets me again â not in the sky, but in the soil, where breath becomes belonging.